Believability
by AnnaEndedTheWorld
Summary: Sometimes you end up lying to yourself to hide from the truth. 1 parter, LB


A/N: I got this idea from tonight's episode... it seemed to perfect that Brooke wasn't really pregnant, that she lied. That she was crying so much... I talked to my Mom about it, and she gave me props for perception over a "teen soap", but it got this idea brewing in my head. If you haven't seen tonight's episode, STOP READING RIGHT Now.  
  
And if my theory turns out to be right.. well then, i guess on top of being a terrific writer (which, fingers crossed, you will prove to me with LOTS of comments), i am also psychic!  
  
-Jules  
  
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You didn't used to be a liar.  
  
You prided yourself on your brutal honesty. True, you were smiley-fake with other cheerleaders you hated, but you always laid it out straight for any parties concerned with yours truly (namely, you.)  
  
You consider -- as you study both sets of your nails, now painted a frenched burgundy -- the moment that you began to lie to yourself. You think back to pre- high school. Was it then? 8th grade, when you told your parents that you and Peyton were sleeping over at Teresa's, a cheerleader you had recently met when you tried out for the freshman squad a week ago. When really, you were dragging Peyton to a high school party you had heard about, with booze, and drugs, and loud music, and boys. Your mother (who lied to herself about everything: her age, her fidelity, her perfect children, her plastic surgery) automatically chose to believe you, and sent you on your way with a twenty, hopefully to buy pizza.  
  
Instead, you splurged on cheap thongs in the sale box at Victoria secret. One for you, one for Peyton, and one for Teresa as a bribe to cover for you.  
  
You realize, frowning at your left pinkie that has gotten smudged, that even if this wasn't the turning point for your truth telling, it was the turning point for something.  
  
He called you a slut, you remind yourself. He doesn't love you. You're too young, too much fun to be tied down to a loveless relationship and a screaming 8 pound thing they call babies. You've seen Jake's baby, and she's beautiful, but you're honest with yourself, and you know it must be hell.  
  
Karen, you realize, told Dan the truth.  
  
But, you remind yourself, he ran out on her, didn't he? And, as you pointed out to Lucas (rather bluntly, even for you, you admit), he ended up knocking up a blonde a few months later.  
  
Then again, Karen didn't know Deb at teh time. And look at the two of them now. Karen managed to overcome her pain, and the two of them were friends. You remembered Deb bringing Karen food at the hospital...  
  
...you remember that day. You were freaking out, because you had never met a guy's parents before. You were good enough for the back room of a party, for the back seat even, but never for a meet-the-folks moment.  
  
And you had accepted that. You even told yourself you didn't want a relationship, they only tied you down to pain and misunderstanding and yelling. You used Peyton and Nathan for your example. Peyton, at that time, you compared to Karen. Stupid, silly, naive... she lived in a dreamworld. No, relationships weren't for you.  
  
That was, until Karen's son refused your offer for easy sex. More than once. Until, when you called him, panicking, because this time Peyton had gotten herself into a situation even you couldn't flirt your way out of, he came, no questions asked.  
  
No guy had ever just come, before. No guy was ever that trustworthy before.  
  
So when you sat up with him, talking, about everything: your family (or lack thereof), your fears, and he shared his: his anger at knowing Dan Scott had gotten off free, living in his huge house while he and his Mom sweated away to pay their mortgage. His love of Keith, who he sweared was in love with his mom, if he would only admit it. His fear that Haley was going to fall into Nathan's trap, like his mom fell into Dan's.  
  
To this, you can offer some comfort. I think Nathan really cares about her, you offer into the silence, and the words fold easily into the couch between the two of you. Silence is easy between the two of you. He smiles at you gratefully, his mind obviously somewhere else. And you realize that you are starting to really care about him, even if only a little bit.  
  
So when he brings you a book to read, John Steinbeck, you agree. This kind of attention, this kind of faith that you have something beyond your charms and your had-crazy-sex-last-night voice, drives you to do something you wouldn't have ever expected. You read. And then the two of you fall into an easy relationship. And you feel yourself easily falling into this vulnerable spot. You're really falling in love with him, you realize.  
  
Especially when he lies in the hospital, and you aren't sure if he's going to make it. And his mother is so concerned, but so kind. She doesn't warm to you immediately, but you immediately recognize where Lucas got his supreme faith in human beings from.  
  
It's ironic, you muse, as the next woman is called in by the receptionist, that you couldn't put your faith in Lucas.  
  
Against your better judgement, you cradle the past two days close to you. The attention, the panic, the concern he felt, all draped around you. Not Peyton this time, you. His offer, to stand by you "whatever decision you make" made your throat close up and throb in a way it hadn't since you found out the two people you cared about most -- the boyfriend you were falling in love with and the best friend you could always count on -- had betrayed you.  
  
(You lied to yourself then, as well. First, when you never suspected what was going on. Like your mother, you turned a blind eye to infidelity, concentrating instead on the seeming perfectness of your life: friend, boyfriend. Perfect. Flash, take a picture, save it for later, when the walls crumble around you.)  
  
And you realize that his supreme faith in people, his judgement, must have been off. He must have been so relieved to hear he was off the hook, he didn't notice you trembling.  
  
At this, you close your eyes, trying to blot out the truth. Because, once again, you realize you are lying to yourself. Like you did when Peyton ditched you for Lucas, and Lucas for Peyton. You can't admit it, but Lucas does care for you. As, like you realized a few weeks ago at the cheerleading competition, does his mother. Who had to make the hardest decision of her life, and does not regret it. Who you are positive has never regretted it.  
  
You lie to yourself, when you say what you are doing only affects you. Not Lucas, not... anyone else. Because there isn't anyone else. What is growing inside of you isn't a person, it isn't a part of Lucas, or of you. Wildly you imagine a baby with Lucas's head waving Pom Poms in the air.  
  
You force the thought out of your system and breathe, in and out through your nose, like you overheard your mom's yoga instructor telling her. What you told Lucas is true. You aren't having his baby.  
  
To a point.  
  
"Ms. Davis?" The receptionist smiles at you apologetically, like she can, with her perfect white teeth, somehow erase the mess you got yourself into you.  
  
You force yourself out of your isolation inside of your screaming, crying mind.  
  
"Yes?" You rise to your feet, at once wobbly and unsure. You are never unsure, even when you're drunk. What is wrong with you?  
  
"The doctor will see you now."  
  
You enter the room, and are surprised and disturbed to see it is not white, and cold, like a doctor's office should be. Like a doctor's office who does THIS should be. Instead, it is blue. At some places it fades to pale lavender. Big, comfortable leather chairs sit facing eachother over a cow patterned rug. A VCR sits off in the corner, which, I'm sure, fills in the holes of the procedure the doctor does not wish to cover.  
  
As she speaks, about freedom of choice, about your other options, about the pain that will occur, the possible side effects, the days off from school you'll have to take, the tramatic emotional effects it will have... you tune her out and think again, of Karen.  
  
Karen, who would never have done what you did. And you had something she didn't -- a man, who, although he doesn't love you, won't leave you.  
  
Lucas, you realize, frightened, is someone you can always trust to do the right thing.  
  
You think.  
  
You think back to Karen. The look on her face, probably, when Lucas told her you were pregnant. The fear, the self-blame, the denial, the pity, the understanding. And then the look on her face when he tells her it was a farce, a trap that you, evil Brooke, spun to make the citizens of Tree Hill even more miserable. She, once again, feels pity for you, but even more, a sense of relief and gratitude for the universe for saving her son to live and move on to better things.  
  
And you, you remind yourself. She probably thought, and said, the same of you.  
  
You are called back to the ironic blue room when the doctor asks you to sign something. You can change your mind, she assures you, at any point. You also need your parents to sign this. You nod absentmindedly, knowing if you get your mother drunk enough, she won't care. Hell, she'd probably be surprised this was your first abortion.  
  
You watch your hand sign away the life of a child you will never know. The doctor lets out a breath you didn't know she was holding, shakes your hand, tells you if you have any questions or concerns to call, and ushers you back into the stagnant, hot waiting room.  
  
You have not let go of your breath. If there is any breath in you.  
  
Lucas believes you were not pregnant. You did that much for him, you try to convince yourself. He's off the hook, he can't take any of the blame for this. He'll be able to have the life Karen wants for him. The love Karen wants for him.  
  
You wonder, once again, what it is that Karen would want for you.  
  
And quickly drop the idea and concentrate on your nails. Lying to yourself is easier than admitting you probably just made the greatest mistake of your life, after all.  
  
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Well, what do you think? Did it make sense? Should i continue? I think it works as a one parter, but it's up to y'all.  
  
respond, please!  
  
-Julie 


End file.
